


Boy and the Beast

by Sadeyes Badguys (Summerfields)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark Comedy, Eventual Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Horror, M/M, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 22:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12945249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summerfields/pseuds/Sadeyes%20Badguys
Summary: He knew it was over. It was a strange thing to know he’d be dead in a few minutes. Eaten raw. The muscles he was using to run would be stringed between sharp teeth, and maybe some fibers would get stuck between them. And he hadn’t even lost his virginity yet.





	Boy and the Beast

Stiles sat down in the grass with a glass of chardonnay. He glanced back towards the mansion and Erica running towards him, her two-thousand-dollar dress flapping in the wind and the sun piercing through strands of her long, ridiculously perfect hair. 

She crashed down beside him and smiled in that cocky way of hers, the pitch black around her eyes making them look all the more alive. Stiles laughed and raised his glass. “Want some?”

Erica faked a thoughtful expression, “Maybe I should cut down on my alcohol consumption.”

Stiles rolled his eyes before hollering at an android, “Could we get another glass?”     

The android, who was in the middle in its task of cleaning the pool, tinkered before freezing in its movements. The metal encasing reflected the sun in a way that made it look like a light source. Stiles zoomed in, lowered the saturation and gamma of his vision until he could see it clearly. He was a good android, Mr. Sparkles. He hadn’t broken down even once. Stiles watched it speed away into the house and emerge with an entire bottle in a bucket, heading towards them.

“Do you ever wonder what’s actually behind the wall?”

Stiles restored his vision and looked towards Erica. Her expression had turned serious, suddenly. The wind had stilled. Stiles frowned back at her, “What do you mean? There’s nothing behind the wall except blood-thirsty werewolves … and desert, and like- … dead people.”

Erica smiled warmly, then looked down at the grass, her fingers reaching out to part the strands. “I want to go there sometime, to see it with my own eyes.”

Stiles spluttered, eyes widening in disbelief, “Are you crazy? We live in the country’s wealthiest town. With castles of gold and parks and ponds with cute little fishes! I mean- … have you seen what’s happening there? Like with a drone?”

Erica brought her hand up, dirt caked under her well-manicured nails. She began picking at it until Mr. Sparkles came into view beside her. “Here is your wine, Ms. Reyes.”

She squinted up towards him, “Thank you.”

Time stretched until there wasn’t a sound but the slight whir of the android retreating. Erica put the ice filled bucket next to her, the bottle shimmering in the light. _Chablis Premier Cru Mont de Milieu._

She poured a glass, swirled it around and took a sip. “My dad told me something today,”

Her dad was one of the security guards patrolling the wall. He’d told Erica everything about the werewolves. How they ran after humans and attacked them, _ate them_.

“Huh, something about the outside?” Stiles asked, eagerness evident to his voice. The outside world and it’s wild, animalistic inhabitants had always fascinated him. He’d seen countless of documentaries and news features. He knew all about their behavior and instincts. About how they used to be like humans but something went wrong, some sickness permeated their DNA and changed them.

It happened about the same time as the _new plague_ began striking life amongst humans. The invisible disease that made you progressively weaker until you couldn’t move at all. Trapped in a wheelchair while you smiled and laughed, because it only affected the body, not the mind. Eventually you couldn’t talk, only lie comatose in a hospital bed, and speak with your eyes. Blink once for yes, twice for no.

And then your eyelids would grow too heavy, and the cord was pulled, and then there was absolute silence. Only a straight line displayed on the heart monitor.

“What did your dad say?”

She took a deep breath.

“There was this Were who didn’t run towards the first fence. He had just stood there, growling, and stomping while the others moved closer, taking one step after the other until they got shot.

He had held up a sign and it said something. But even through three times zoom my dad couldn’t read it. It was a blurry mess. Like someone had smudged it with their shirt-sleeve.”

Stiles frowned at that. He had never heard of a Were that could write or use tools like pens and signs. “So he was trying to … communicate with us?”

Erica looked back at him, shrugged and took a big gulp of chardonnay, “I don’t know. They watched a drone recording and it appeared to be an empty page. Like it was just a blank piece of cardboard they’d found at the dumpsters.”

“Oh.” Stiles sighed.

But it didn’t make sense. People could mistake something for the other, but they couldn’t make something out of _nothing_. “Were there any other drones in the area?”

She nodded. “There was. At least five more were registered nearby. But they all malfunctioned and got shattered on impact. The one they found was still sitting on the wall.”

Stiles’ frown deepened. Strange. “Someone must have fucked up. Royally.”

Erica arched a brow, “Or … they’re hiding something.”

 

* * *

 “Can you remind me again why the fuck we’re doing this?” Stiles asked through gritted teeth, his clammy hands gripping the Colt M4 Carbine so hard it was vibrating. They’d made it out of the Stilinski mansion. His dad’s ID was dangling around his neck while they crouched along the inner side of the wall. God. Stiles’ dad was going to murder him.

“We’re going on an adventure!” Erica exclaimed. Her war-paint made her look attractively aggressive. Stiles was a little bit intimidated.

“Shut up. Don’t quote shitty movies at me in a time like this.”

He caught Erica rolling her eyes at him, “Don’t be melodramatic, we’re not doing anything illegal.”

Stiles raised his huge gun and waved it around for good measure, “We’ve just stolen the most dangerous and expensive weapon from my dad’s gun cabinet. That sounds pretty illegal to me.”

Erica waved a hand at him dismissively before continuing along the wall. Stiles sighed, held the gun low, and followed.

 

* * *

Beacon Hills was a prosperous little town situated between the Black and Red Were lands. It was protected by a wide wall that was at least a hundred meters tall! Okay, maybe not a hundred meters but it was fucking tall. Stiles had walked on top of it once and his stomach had felt all weird when he looked down the other side. It had to be at least 50 meters.

Or was it 30 meters? They had read about it in history class, but Stiles couldn’t remember the exact number, hmm- … maybe 20? Anyways, moving on. 

The purpose of the wall was to keep werewolves out. Werewolves were nasty, dangerous, ugly creatures that had noses distorted into snouts, eyes shining red and nails morphing into pinprick claws that could cut through almost anything. 

They lived in nests, under the ground or above. Stiles had watched them with cameras attached to drones, and he’d seen them rip flesh apart and eat it raw, growl at each other and fuck like rabbits in heat. He thought they were disgusting, to be honest.

They’d caught one once. The security guards. It had been named Bob and shoved into a terrarium of lead-infused glass at the Beacon Hills Park Zoo. It was a commercial failure. The kids thought it was scary and the adults found it repulsing. 

Stiles had been there. He’d seen it smash its clawed fists against the glass and roar, eyes flashing and drool running down its throat. They had to put it down eventually.

 

* * *

 

“What’s your reason for passing through?”

“Scout mission. We got assigned by Jonas Reyes and John Stilinski, who is my father. I have his ID here as proof-“

“That’s wouldn’t be necessary,” The guard bellowed down at them. “Opening the gates!”

Dust raised up into the air, and Stiles put a finger on the trigger. Just in case.

 

* * *

 

The outside was … hot. To say the least. There was literally nothing visible except the glaring sun and an endless expanse of sand at their feet.

“So what do we do now exactly?” Stiles asked, wiping his sweaty forehead with his shirt sleeve.

“We explore!” Erica exclaimed. “I got the map memorized in my head.” She then proceeded to take off into the never-ending sand covered landscape. Stiles hurried to keep up with her, stopping to gulp down water at regular intervals. He still couldn’t remember why he’d agreed to this. 

They walked for at least two hours before they caught sight of something in the horizon. What started out as a tiny, hardly visible dot turned into a landscape of ruins once they zoomed in enough. It looked peaceful from a distance but it was a disgusting place. The ruin walls were covered in grime, feces, and blood. The air was filled with one of the worst smells Stiles had ever experienced. “For fucks sake, do these beasts ever wash themselves?” Stiles muttered, and Erica just laughed while beginning to zig-zag through the ruins.

“Lets hide here,” Erica said after they’d paced a few minutes longer. “-this is one of the best spots to catch Weres.”

They were situated behind a rock with a crack in it, just wide enough to stick the rifle muzzle through so they could shoot through to the other side. Erica put her rifle to the hole and crouched down to look through the sight. Stiles watched in fascination. “You’re much more badass than I had imagined.” 

Erica laughed again, throwing her hair back to get a clearer view though the sight. “I’ve done my research, plus dad takes me to the shooting range at least twice a week. You know this.”

Stiles smiled, peeking out beside the rock to look for whatever Erica was aiming at, but there was nothing there. “I’ve just never seen you in action like thi-“

A sudden, loud bang made Stiles jump. He dropped his gun into the sand as he instinctively threw himself back against the rock. “Jesus Erica! Warn a guy.” He yelled, reaching to pick his gun up but was interrupted by a second bang that made his ears ring. “For fucks sake! What are you shooting at?” He exclaimed before turning to look at her. He expected her to be laughing at his ridiculousness, calling him _scaredy cat_ , but she had turned serious. When he looked closer he noticed the thin, green circles on her irises, meaning she was zooming in on something. Another gunshot, and the force rocked her body before she positioned the gun and fired off a fourth time.

Then she turned to look at him. She was wearing a worried expression that he’d never seen before. “You have to run, Stiles,” She said, “I’ll keep you covered for a while.”

Stiles was confused. There was no sarcasm to her voice, and she was a horrible liar. She couldn’t even prank call without cracking up, so something had to be terribly, terribly wrong. “what do you mea-“ Stiles began, but was interrupted by Erica shoving him in the chest, powerful enough to make him fall out from behind the rock. He lied with limbs disarrayed, groggily staring towards the horizon, taking a second to zoom in before discovering in horror how an entire pack of werewolves were surging out from behind a ruin wall.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck ..” Stiles chanted while getting up to his feet. He looked back towards Erica who was nodding at him, “Go!” She yelled, and it was all Stiles needed to hear before taking off like a rocket.

 

* * *

 

It’s not easy to run on sand, Stiles noticed after a while. It was almost like trying to run through clay or deep water, and it was exhausting. He could hear footsteps behind him. Or maybe _pawsteps_ would be more accurate, since they ran on all fours.

He knew it was over. It was a strange thing to know he’d be dead in a few minutes. Eaten raw. The muscles he was using to run would be stringed between sharp teeth, and maybe some fibers would get stuck between them. And he hadn’t even lost his virginity yet.

A paw, finger, _whatever_ grabbed hold of his ankle, made him faceplant into the sand and dragged him back like a dead weight. He thought he’d be lifted into the air and put above a fucking fire to be cooked before they ate him, but then he remembered that they liked their meat raw and would probably just dig in.

“No! … don’t-“ He stammered, eyes squeezed shut as he squirmed on the sand. One of them grabbed his arm and twisted it around, forcing him onto his back as the others held him still. He sobbed, keeping his eyes closed to block out their faces. He couldn’t stop thinking about his dad and Erica. Would anyone find his clothes? He prayed they wouldn’t. He prayed they’d just believe he got lost in the desert and died of dehydration. Those pathetic, ugly creatures shouldn’t be honored as the reason for his death.

Something wet suddenly landed on his face, and Stiles thought that it must be drool. The werewolves were salivating while thinking about eating him. He felt dizzy until some of the liquid dribbled onto his lips, and Stiles realized by the tang of copper that it was blood. Oh, right. Erica had shot them. Well that served them right.

He had barely managed to open his eyes before there was a sharp light, almost like a camera flash beaming straight at his face. Pain shot like lightning though his head and he couldn’t stop himself from screaming. He began to rock and spasm on the sand as the pain intensified until it suddenly stopped, and everything turned quiet.

The werewolves had been growling, grunting, and making other canine sounds but now they were completely silent.

Stiles slowly, carefully opened his eyes. There was a man staring down at him, only a few centimeters from his face.

What he saw almost made his heart stop. Where had the werewolves gone?

The relief that overcame him was so immense that he couldn’t help from letting out a hysterical little laugh. He’d been saved. Somehow, magically, he’d been saved.

“Oh my god” He breathed, beaming up at the man hovering above him. “-thank you. Thank you so much. You can’t believe how scared-“

“Can you see me?” The man interrupted. He was still staring down at Stiles’ face with a calculating look to his eyes. And there was blood, so much blood all over his face. But behind the sludge of red was a handsome young man. His eyes were green like the jungle, alive and serious, yet there seemed to be something broken about them. Stiles had been too overcome with joy to reflect on it earlier. Another drop fell from the man’s forehead down onto Stiles’ cheek.

“Uh- yes. You’re kind of right in my face. But dude- … are you okay? You’re covered in blood. Did the Weres get you too?”

The man suddenly growled. It was a guttural, animalistic sound that made Stiles a little scared, to be honest. He froze as the man continued to glare down at him without a word, eventually grabbing a device that looked like a do-it-yourself Star Wars lightsaber, without the plasma blade. _What the actual fuck_ was all Stiles had time to think before the man started talking.

“This is a flash light to disable your bionic contact lenses, the ones that are surgically applied to anyone born in the last fifty years. The ones that make us look like _monsters_.” He finished, gritting out the last word as something disgusting, or something to be ashamed of. He looked away from Stiles to the rest of the group gathered around.

Stiles was suddenly reminded of their presence. They were all wearing tattered clothes, their faces were dirty or bloodied, and there was three of them lying dead on the sand around him. All had been shot in the head, blood still seeping out and disappearing into the sand.

Stiles gasped, sitting up and pushing the man away, crawling back in horror as their dead eyes stared at him. There was a woman weeping, clutching a child to her chest. The child’s head was hanging limp, blood mingled with its hair, long enough to graze the sand.

“what- … what happened?” Stiles stammered, feeling light headed and nauseous all of a sudden.

The man growled, fists clenching as he stared off to where Stiles had run from. “Your friend killed them.”

What they were implying hit him like a freight train. They thought the lenses had distorted their faces, made them into animals. That they’d been shooting people all along.

But it couldn’t be true. They’d made it into a sport, they’d cheered when Weres got shot, they’d built a wall to keep them out. Had they killed actual people? Children?

Stiles started hyperventilating, trying to sort out his thoughts. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. He tried to come up with a way to prove that they were wrong, that he and his friends, his people, weren’t cold blooded mass murderers.

_The zoom._

Stiles shut his eyes in concentration, trying to gather his thoughts and tense his eyes into maximum zoom and the other vision clearing functions, but when he opened his eyes again, everything looked the same. They still looked at him brokenly, and the young man was still glaring.

“I’m- … I don’t understand.” Stiles breathed, eyes flicking from one face to the other. How could this have happened? What was the purpose of this?

“You don’t need to understand.” The young man said. 

Stiles shut his eyes, pale faced, like he’d just stepped out of a chilly ocean. “How is this possible?” 

“The sickness. That’s what your people call it, right?” The man asked, gazing off into the direction of Beacon Hills. Stiles was confused. “What’s that got to do with this?”

“It’s a war. Not a sickness. The number one reason that your soldiers wouldn’t shoot us was because we’re humans. We have families, emotions. To solve this, they developed the contacts. No one cares for ugly creatures.” 

“Oh.” Stiles said distantly. His entire view of the world was shifting. Nothing made sense anymore. His whole life had been a lie. It rocked him to the very core how wrong he’d been all this time. How could he not have figured it out?

He looked down at his hands, at least they still looked the same. He clenched his fist, then spread his fingers, dragging them through the sand. Oh god. Fuck no.

The Were they’d captured and put at the zoo. Had it really been- …

Stiles felt bile rise up his throat before he vomited into the sand. He couldn’t stop hyperventilating, and his head wouldn’t stop spinning. Eventually he fell to the side, clutching his legs into a fetal position as his vision started to blur. He saw a man running towards him before everything went black.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Black Mirror episode "Men Against Fire".


End file.
